The Sweetest Thing

Prologue | The Best Thing

Jenevieve arrived at her best friend Chris' family's house for dinner. She could smell the home-cooked dinner from outside the front door.

Chris' family's house was where she felt safest. She felt that way since she was thirteen years old with nowhere to go.

She stood on the porch now and felt exactly the same thing she always felt standing there. Welcomed.

Shortly Chris arrived and swaggered up to her. He had just gotten off of work and was exhausted. Nevertheless, happy to see his best friend and have dinner at his mother's home.

"Hey you." He said as he and Jenevieve hugged briefly. "Glad you came."

"Me too." Jen sighed as if the weight of the world was on her shoulders.

Jenevieve rang the bell before Chris could pull out his keys. The door swung open and his older sister Nicole appeared, already talking, already getting on his nerves.

"You're four minutes late—" She fussed at Chris eliciting an eyeroll from him. She redirected and pulled Jenevieve into a hug so immediate and absolute that Jenevieve barely had time to brace for it. "Nevermind, you're forgiven, both of you, come in."

"Hello to you too," Chris said, stepping inside behind Jenevieve.

"Ignoring you." Nicole linked her arm through Jenevieve's and steered her toward the kitchen like she was precious cargo. "Come on, Mom's been asking about you for weeks."

"She has not—"

"She absolutely has."

The house was the same as it always was — warm and cozy, the kind of home that had life in every corner. Family photos lined the hallway and trinkets Chris' mother collected.

Jenevieve's eyes found the one they always found: a Christmas photo from the year she and Chris were fifteen.

All six of them squeezed onto the living room couch. His little brother Adison small enough to sit in his father's lap, Nicole was tall with a horrible perm, and Jenevieve was on the end next to Chris. Both had the same colored braces and ugly Christmas sweater. Jenevieve was smiling in a way she hadn't felt in a long time.

Pure happiness, she felt in that photo. She looked away before anyone could catch her looking.

The kitchen was a mess— four pots going, something in the oven, and seasoning spilled on the counter.

Cherrelle, Chris' mother, turned around quickly when she heard them come in.

"There she is." She said like Jenevieve's arrival was the thing she'd been waiting for. She crossed the kitchen and cupped Jenevieve's face in both hands the way she had since Jenevieve was a teenager, studying her for just a moment with her motherly, all-knowing eyes.

"You look tired, baby."

"I've got a big exam coming up."

Cherrelle made a sound that communicated she was accepting this answer without necessarily believing it. She kissed Jenevieve on the forehead — something she'd done so many times since Jenevieve was little.

"Go on and sit down. You're not doing anything tonight but eating and resting."

"I can help—"

"You can sit."

Jenevieve sat.

Chris hovered around the stove, lifting lids the way he always did, which was the fastest way to get his mother to threaten him with a wooden spoon, which happened within approximately forty-five seconds.

"Boy, if you don't get—"

"—I'm just looking—"

"—You're letting the steam out and sticking your fingers in the food. Move." Cherrelle pointed with the spoon. "Go find your father."

Chris caught Jenevieve's eye across the kitchen. She pressed her lips together to keep from smiling. He pointed at her — '

'don't laugh'— and then she followed him to see his father while giggling.

His father, Allen was in the den watching a Warriors game, which was where he was most evenings. Chris was the spitting image of his father. He was a strong man who was broad-shouldered and serious.

He looked up when Jenevieve appeared in the doorway.

"There's my girl." He patted the arm of the chair beside his. "Come sit with me. These boys are killing me—the hell are they doing?"

She sat, and he immediately launched into a detailed account of everything the team had done wrong in the past three quarters, and Jenevieve listened with genuine interest although she hated sports. However, she'd always sat beside Allen and watched sports games with him. It was a father-daughter bonding that she never had.

She'd learned the rules to have something to sit beside him for, and then learned to love it because he loved it.

Chris watched from the doorway before joining them. Jenevieve and Allen argued about zone defense with complete sincerity and passion.

"Don't get in the middle of that," Nicole said, appearing beside him with a glass of wine. She handed him a beer.

"Wasn't planning on it." He took a sip.

Nicole watched Jenevieve laugh at something their father said, the kind of laugh that came from the belly, unguarded and bright. "She seems good."

"She's tired."

Nicole looked at him sideways. "You can tell."

"I know her."

"Mm." She drank her wine. "How's Preston?" She asked with slight disdain.

It wasn't really a question. Chris's expression didn't change exactly, but his mood did when Nicole brought his name up.

"Fine, as far as I know," he said.

Nicole nodded slowly. Said nothing. That was the thing about the Sidney family—they could communicate volumes in the space of saying nothing.

____

Dinner was loud and everyone was chatting about everything but nothing.

Adison arrived eighteen minutes late with no explanation, which was simply who he was. After Allen fussed at him for the upteenth time about being late, he said grace. Their mother served, because she insisted on it regardless of who offered to help, it was her joy.

Jenevieve sat across from Chris, which was where she always ended up.

They ate. They talked. Adison tried to bring out Uno but was shut down by Cherrelle after they broke a table last time.

"How are the clinicals going?" Cherrelle asked Jenevieve, settling back into her seat.

"It's hard," Jenevieve said honestly. "But good-hard. I feel like I'm actually learning things now, not just reading about them."

"You're going to be an incredible nurse." Cherrelle said with proud certainty. "You have always been someone who pays attention to people. Sees them." She reached across the corner of the table and patted Jenevieve's hand once. "That's the most important thing you can have."

Jenevieve nodded and smiled timidly, while looking down at her half-eaten plate.

"Thank you," she said softly.

Across the table, Chris was very focused on every word that came from Jenevieve's mouth, even when she only spoke two words. Jenevieve never noticed but his mother did. She always has.

She noticed the way Chris reached across the table to refill Jenevieve's glass before she could ask. She noticed the way Jenevieve passed him the bread without him saying anything, just because she'd seen him reach for it. The way her son looked at Jenevieve when she made a comment about something—anything, his eyes lit up.

She noticed all of it the way she'd been noticing it for years now.

She'd said something once, gently, to Allen. He'd looked at her over his reading glasses and said, "I know, Cherry." They hadn't discussed it again. It wasn't their business.

Their children—and Jenevieve was theirs, they treated her as such ever since she and Chris met when they were kids. She was a foster kid, bouncing from trashy households to even worse households.

The day Thirteen-year-old Chris brought home his new friend for dinner, they saw the brokenness in her eyes, and they welcomed her with love immediately. She was invited for dinner every night and often stayed overnight.

Cherrelle watched Chris laugh at something Jenevieve said. A real laugh that reached his eyes and made him look thirteen again.

She picked up her fork and said nothing. Some things had to find their own way.

___

After dinner, Jenevieve helped clear the table despite Cherrelle's protests. She'd learned years ago that the Cherrelle actually appreciated the company in the kitchen—and they stood side by side at the sink the way they had a hundred times. Jenevieve washing and Cherrelle drying, the men's voices drifting in from the den.

"Are you happy?" Cherrelle asked.

The question was quiet, almost casual, the way Cherrelle asked the questions that mattered most.

Jenevieve kept her eyes on the pot she was scrubbing. "I'm good."

"That's not what I asked."

Jenevieve rinsed the pot and handed it over. "I'm ...working on it," she said finally.

Cherrelle dried the pot and set it down. Then she put her arm around Jenevieve's shoulders and pulled her into a side embrace.

"That's enough," Cherrelle said. "For now, that's enough. But don't forget, you deserve true happiness—however that is."

Jenevieve nodded as she blinked the tears away.

Cherrelle reached over the counter and gave her several containers of leftovers in a bag.

"These are for you." Cherrelle placed the bag in her hand. She looked in the bag of leftovers and saw there was an envelope inside. Jenevieve knew what was inside it, but she was too proud to take it. Even though she really needed it.

"Miss Cherry—"

"—Nope, don't wanna hear it. I know you're not working much with school and all." She told her with raised eyebrows, "and I know you're not eating much."

"Thank you." Jenevieve smiled, before hugging her goodbye for the night.

___

Chris drove her home at past seven pm. San Francisco was coming alive as everyone roamed the slanted-looking streets. They passed by citizens blasting some of the Bay Area's greatest rappers' music.

"Your mom asked if I was happy," Jenevieve said.

Chris glanced at her. "What'd you say?"

"That I was working on it."

He looked back at the road. His jaw was clenched and his brows furrowed, something he did when he was in deep thought.

"Are you?" he asked.

"Ask me something easier," she scoffed with a grin.

He didn't push it. He finally pulled up in front of her building and she reached for the door handle. "Jenny."

"Yeah?" She looked at him.

'I love you.' is what he wanted to confess. 'You're the best thing that ever happened to me.' His heart pulsed and wanted to shout from the rooftops how much she meant to him. But many fears arose in his mind—A beautiful friendship being ruined, unrequited love, the feelings of their significant others. Too many things to consider.

Instead he asked, "Text me when you're inside?"

She searched his face for a moment and hoped he'd say more. "Okay," she muttered.

She got out and disappeared up the steps. As soon as she got in she texted him. He didn't drive away until she did.